


take notice, take care

by stevebuckiest



Series: chris and andy are in love [8]
Category: Defending Jacob (TV 2020), Destroyer (2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Daddy Kink, Emotional Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, M/M, Massage, Praise Kink, Rimming, Set in the future, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: If Chris hadn’t had such a shitty day at work, he knows he would have been able to see it sooner. The it in question being how Andy has been two steps away from shattering all night. Hell, he’s been building up to this for weeks if Chris takes an objective look at all the hints lately.He tries not to beat himself up over it- he’s normally more perceptive than this, he likes to think. He’s been married to Andy long enough now to know what the far-off expression and slumped shoulders mean, usually is able to act accordingly with them, but tonight’s circumstances had caused him to miss it by a mile. He was tired and irritable from a long day of fixing a client’s fuck ups at work, and instead of questioning Andy’s meek responses, he had just used them as opportunity to dominate the dinner conversation with complains about his day.And look where that’s got them.
Relationships: Andy Barber/Chris (Destroyer)
Series: chris and andy are in love [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809163
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	take notice, take care

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this originally as a request for a different pairing i didn’t have much stake in, but after investing so much in chris and andy i think this suits them a lot. so i tweaked it! and here we are. i hope you enjoy.

If Chris hadn’t had such a shitty day at work, he knows he would have been able to see it sooner. The _it_ in question being how Andy has been two steps away from shattering all night. Hell, he’s been building up to this for weeks if Chris takes an objective look at all the hints lately. 

He tries not to beat himself up over it- he’s normally more perceptive than this, he likes to think. He’s been married to Andy long enough now to know what the far-off expression and slumped shoulders mean, usually is able to act accordingly with them, but tonight’s circumstances had caused him to miss it by a mile. He was tired and irritable from a long day of fixing a client’s fuck ups at work, and instead of questioning Andy’s meek responses, he had just used them as opportunity to dominate the dinner conversation with complains about his day.

And look where that’s got them.

He takes in a deep breath. Does his best at pushing down the guilt. Looks ahead with apologetic eyes to where Andy is hunched over the sink, scrubbing determinedly at the dishes and failing miserably at hiding the fact that he’s crying quietly, turned to face away from Chris leaning against the island.

It’s heartbreaking, to say the least, looking at him like this. Even if Chris wasn’t in love with him, the stifled shaking of his shoulders and periodic swipes at his eyes would be enough to break anyone’s heart. But the fact is, Chris _is_ in love with him, and seeing Andy so torn up and hurting hurts Chris almost as much in turn.

Especially because he’s part of the reason for it in the first place. If he had just _seen_ it earlier, not been so quick to blow off the signs, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. If he had just taken the fucking time to ask Andy how his day had been, maybe he would have been able to prevent this from happening like he normallydoes. Andy doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve someone so selfish that they can’t read between the lines- and god, Chris still doesn’t know what he’s upset about, if it’s something serious, or caused by him in the first place-

_There’s nothing you can do about that now,_ he tries to remind himself. It’s too late for that. All he can do is try to figure out what’s wrong and make it better from where they are. It’s with that thought in mind that he pushes the insecurity to the back of his mind and steps forward, moving to stand behind Andy with a tentative hand resting on his back.

Andy’s shoulders tense up immediately at the touch, apparently so drawn up into himself that he hadn’t even heard Chris moving. Chris’s heart aches. His husband doesn’t turn to look at him.

“Ands,” Chris says softly, throat swelling up when he can’t think of what to say next besides another quiet call to him, this one even gentler. “Sweetheart.”

The nicknames linger between them for a moment, accompanied only by the sound of Andy’s shaky breathing and the sink still running over the dishes. Eventually, Andy reaches up and turns the faucet with a too tight hand that doesn’t let go after the water shuts off. His voice is thick when he speaks, obviously trying to push down his feelings. “What?”

Always a martyr, Andy Barber is. 

“What’s wrong?” is all that Chris can think to say, trying his best to keep his question gentle in hopes that it’ll get his husband to open up to him easier. He moves his thumb in soothing circles on his back, trying to coax out an answer.

Andy doesn’t fall for it, even after he leans back into the touch. “Nothing, Chris. I’m just…tired,” he mutters, an obvious lie. He is tired, most likely, but there’s something else eating at him if things are bad enough for him to get like this.

_Bullshit_ , Chris wants to say, but he knows that would be counterproductive towards his goal, so he just takes in a deep breath and moves his hand up to Andy’s shoulder. “Andy, look at me. C’mon, please,” he requests, and after a moment of hesitation and a gentle tug, Andy does, giving in to the obedience like he always does. 

He turns his head to make eye contact with Chris, whose heart feels like it finally breaks.

There isn’t a moment in time where Chris doesn’t think Andy looks beautiful but right now…he looks aged (a sentiment Chris doesn’t hold often considering his own minutely older status), the weariness on his face settling in making him look years older than what he actually is. Still, somehow at the same time, he also looks impossibly vulnerable. Like he’s one push away from falling apart. Just like he’d been when they met. It makes the lump in Chris’s throat grow about three sizes.

“I’m fine,” Andy insists, voice as firm as he can manage in this state, but Chris can still see right through it and there is no way in hell he is letting him get any worse tonight. He hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the signs earlier, but he’s done with letting it slide.

If Andy needs space, so be it. Chris’ll respect that, all Andy has to do is ask, but Chris knows him and he suspects that’s likely the exact opposite of what the other man needs. He needs to be taken down and taken care of. He needs Chris to be there for him. 

And that’s exactly what Chris is going to do for him. Not just tonight, but always. 

He shakes his head and moves closer, placing his free hand over top Andy’s on the faucet, still white-knuckling the handle. “Sweetheart,” he says, voice gentle with the underlying steel of a command. “Talk to me.” He squeezes their hands together and the hitch in breathing it elicits makes him hope for just a second that Andy is going to let him in and let himself be taken care of so that Chris can fix this mess of a situation, but it’s to no avail. 

Andy just exhales slowly and shakes his own head. “You had a rough day,” he denies. “You don’t need me complaining about mine on top of that. I should…finish the dishes. You can go lay down. I know you’re tired.”

“You just said you were tired too,” Chris points out, sighing when Andy’s only response is to clench his jaw. “Andy, it’s not a competition of who had a worse day. We’re allowed to have bad days at the same time. We’re allowed to deal with them _together_ ,” he argues, trying his best to keep the frustration out of his voice lest it make Andy think it’s anger directed at him. Really, Chris is just angry with himself. 

Andy draws in his bottom lip at that bit of honesty, worrying at the flesh. It’s a perpetual nervous habit he has, Chris knows. Just like the crossed arm hugs he gives himself, or the shoulder ducking head tilt he gives Chris after compliments. The lip biting is one of the most persistent tells of weakness he has to fight to not let slip in the courtroom or at work, but right now he’s at home, and Chris wants him to feel like he can be as vulnerable as he needs. He waits patiently for Andy to answer, beginning to stroke his thumb over his knuckles as well.

“I just don’t want to pile things on you, Chris,” Andy finally says. “I don’t want you to feel worse because of me when you’re already feeling bad in the first place. That’s not right.”

Chris has to close his eyes before he responds, both frustrated and endeared by the way that Andy is always willing to do anything if he thinks it makes things easier for those he loves. Even if it makes things harder for him. He’s selfless, his husband is.

That’s why he knows exactly what card he’s going to play on him right now.

“Well, you know what would make me feel better?” He lifts his hand from where it’s covering Andy’s and places it on his beard instead, turning his face towards him gently so that their gazes meet, Andy’s hesitant.

“What?” he asks lowly. Chris can practically _see_ the protective eager-to-please feeling rising in him. Sweet, stubborn son of a bitch. 

Chris leans forward and kisses him gently, letting Andy lean into it for a moment with his shoulders melting, before pulling back and answering, “You letting me make you feel better, too.”

Andy lets out a huff that sounds like it’s trying to be annoyed, but he leans his head forward against Chris’s nonetheless, eyes closed. “You’re trying to trick me,” he murmurs, bringing his own hand up to cup at Chris’s face as well.

Chris hums and doesn’t deny it. That’s exactly what he’s trying to do. “Is it working?”

“Will you think I’m a bad lawyer if I say yes?” he jokes back, a half-hearted grin shining in the space between them. His voice is joking, but there’s still an underlying note of genuine insecurity that makes Chris frown and almost pull away.

He doesn’t though. Upsetting Andy again- even more, after he just made a little progress is the last thing he wants, so he just rubs his thumb over Andy’s beard and doesn’t move. “Not if it gets me my way,” he says back, forcing his tone to remain playful. “Now, c’mon, big guy- leave the dishes. We can do them tomorrow.”

Andy sighs, but lets Chris turn him around and push him gently out of the kitchen after they share a second kiss. “What’re you gonna do?” he asks in confusion, the wrinkle between his eyebrows appearing when Chris leads him towards the staircase.

“You’ll see,” Chris says, raising his eyebrows as Andy turns his head around to give Chris a look as they both climb up the stairs. “Why, are you hoping for something in particular?” he teases, trying to keep the mood light by making his voice suggestive. He deliberately flicks his eyes down to Andy’s ass and licks his lips. What? It’s right in front of him and Andy happens to look amazing in dress pants. Plus Chris is gonna get his hands on it in about thirty seconds. 

Andy rolls his eyes at him, but he’s smiling too, so Chris thinks that his efforts are working at least a little bit. “You’re the one who’s practically dragging me to the bedroom,” Andy says drily. “But if you say your intentions are good…I trust you, daddy.” There it is. That sweet little pet name. Means Chris is doing _something_ right tonight, if Andy is okay enough to give him this. 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Chris hum, pushing himself up the last step so he can wrap his arms around Andy’s waist and kiss his neck as they walk down the short distance of the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s _always_ good with me.”

Andy just gives him another bashful look once Chris has finally has him herded in their bedroom, turning around to face him while Chris shuts the door behind him, but once he does the expression slides off his face and is replaced by one that’s much more somber. “So…” Andy says, trailing off. “What- what did you want me to- what should I do?“

He’s fumbling in a way he almost normally never does outside of these intimate situations- Andy gets angry easy, sure, but even then he always has his words more put together than Chris would on his best day. It’s always been something Chris has envied in him, honestly. Seeing him like this, standing in front of Chris with an unsure expression like he’s just waiting to be told what the next move is? It’s…Chris doesn’t know how it makes him feel, even after all this time. It’s special that only he gets him this way, but...he also knows that this time he hates the exhaustion that’s still lingering on Andy’s face, the insecurity that’s still shining through his eyes, and he would do anything to get rid of it.

Andy still has that helpless gaze fixed on him, so Chris gives him what he hopes is a comforting smile and walks over to him, pausing to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him chastely. “I’m gonna give you a massage,” he says after pulling back. It’s a safe move, he thinks. He’s given them to Andy before, more as a relaxation routine after he works out particularly hard rather than a comfort tactic, but the other man always seems to enjoy them. Besides, his back does look tense as hell, and Chris kind of has the hope that maybe this will render the other man pliant enough to finally open up about what’s wrong so that Chris can really get down to helping him feel better. 

Andy looks at him with a confused expression, eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” he says.

Chris has a split second of caution that maybe this isn’t the right way to go about all this, but Andy’s shoulders slump the slightest bit after Chris nods in confirmation, so he presses forward carefully. “That’s the plan. That okay, sweetheart?” he asks. He thinks he does a pretty good job of keeping the uncertainty out of his voice, but Andy gives him a funny look, so maybe not.

“That’s okay with me,” he says quietly, looping his own arms around Chris’s waist. “I- thank you, Chris. A massage sounds nice.” He gives him a small but genuine upturn in his lips, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

Chris exhales quietly in relief and smiles warmly at Andy, a wave of affection surging up in him at the fact Andy is still trying to comfort him when he’s the one who really needs it right now. It works, Chris’s thoughts about handling things wrong quieting the longer Andy looks at him with that soft expression. “Okay,” he murmurs. “How about you take off your clothes while I get some stuff ready?”

Andy nods slowly and pulls away from him, already working on unbuttoning his shirt. “All of them?” he asks.

Chris hums from where he’s turned to change into sweats and no shirt, pulling the massage oil out from their nightstand. “Whatever amount you’re comfortable with. I can get you a towel if you want,” he answers. Then, just to make Andy hopefully smile again, he turns and throws him a playful grin. “But you know I prefer you naked, sweet thing.”

The joke works enough to make Andy let out a tired laugh, tossing his button-up and undershirt into the hamper before getting to work on removing his pants. “Yeah, yeah,” he says back, but he shucks down his briefs with his pants anyways. “I can get my own towel. Wouldn’t want you to get distracted while you work, daddy,” he teases back, and although his voice is still too meek for it to be quite back to normal even with the submission he’s currently giving, Chris thinks that maybe he’s starting to feel a little bit better.

“Oh, don’t underestimate me, Andrew. There’s still plenty for me to get distracted by,” he retorts back lightly, making a show out of leering at Andy when he walks to the bathroom and pulls a clean towel out of the linen closet.

Andy huffs and comes back to settle down on the bed, face-down with the towel covering his ass. Chris isn’t exactly a stranger to seeing Andy undressed- he’s married to the man for fuck’s sake, but he’s only human, so he lets himself take a long moment to stare appreciatively at the sight on his husband spread out on the bed, the sweet curve of his ass still visible under the cloth. Andy doesn’t say anything, just stares back silently at Chris, head pillowed on his thick forearms folded beneath his cheek.

  
  


Chris eventually stops studying him, taking in a shaky breath and giving Andy a reassuring smile. “Alright,” he says quietly. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’m gonna start with your shoulders, okay?” he asks, sitting himself down on the bed next to Andy’s spread out form, knees dipping into the mattress next to his muscular calves.

“Okay,” Andy agrees, and that’s all that there is to be said before Chris is clicking open the oil to warm it between his hands, placing his fingertips firmly on Andy’s still tense shoulders once it’s ready. 

Andy’s muscles aren’t as knotted up as they would be if this was their normal post-workout massage, but there’s still enough tension in them for him to let out a couple groans when Chris hits a particularly sore spot. Honestly, Chris knows that office jobs are frankly terrible for your back- he had tried out a few for himself earlier on before the detective gig came together. He decided they weren’t for him, but it seems that being a lawyer wreaks the same havoc. After hitting a spot knotted up enough for Andy to let out a pained whimper, Chris decides to use it as an opening to question Andy about what’s actually eating at him, speaking while his fingers press their way down Andy’s back until he skips over his ass to start working up from his feet to his thighs.

“You’re awfully tense,” he notes quietly. “What’d you do, spend all day hunched over your desk?”

Andy sighs in relief while Chris works over the arch of his foot with firm kneading. “Yeah,” he says, deep voice fuzzy. “Got a new case today that I’m supposed to be leading- Neil is- taking the backseat, we spent most of the day going over the files.”

Ah. Neil. There’s one stressor of the day. The man is insufferable, if you ask Chris- sure, he’s only met him at a few of Andy’s firm parties and fundraisers, but it’s not that hard to get a read on how much of a prick he is. Especially to Andy, who taught him the ropes on how to be a better lawyer when he was still new, only for Neil to turn out to be an insufferable moron who is constantly trying to undermine Andy now that he’s convinced he’s a better lawyer than him. He isn’t. They all know it.

There’s also the little issue of Neil having a few less than savory remarks to make about Andy being married to a man after his divorce with Laurie, even after all this time- he’s been an ass since the beginning about it, but right now Chris doesn’t want to think about that when Andy is opening up a little. 

Chris doesn’t visibly scowl at the mention of Andy being forced to work with Neil, just hums and starts to work his way up Andy’s calves instead. He might dig his fingers in a little bit harder, but that’s his business, and from Andy’s pleased groan he doesn’t seem to mind.

  
  


“You’re leading it?” he says instead. “That’s a big deal. Proud of you baby, I know how much you love this job.” The words have an ulterior motive, but Chris does mean them. He _is_ proud of his husband and all the work he does. “Married a bigshot lawyer, didn’t I?” he adds on, trying to keep things less heavy.

Andy doesn’t reply for a second, though, so Chris starts to worry that he’s said something wrong, is about to change the subject when Andy answers so quietly that Chris barely hears him. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “Sometimes I…” he trails off, sighing when Chris starts working over the backs of his knees. “Nevermind,” he finishes weakly.

Chris does frown at that. “Sometimes you what, Ands?” he asks, trying not to be too pushy, but desperately wanting Andy to speak. He’s getting close to it, Chris can tell, muscles going liquid under Chris’s touch the more that he presses on them.

Andy’s voice is even more hushed with his next answer. “Sometimes I just wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he whispers, turning his head so that it’s pillowed on his arms, expression out of Chris’s view. “The case we got today…sometimes I just don’t know, Chris.” His shoulders are tight again, but he goes on, voice weak. “What if I get it wrong? What if I’ve gotten it wrong? What if because of me, an innocent man is locked in prison or- a murderer goes free, like my father could have? I just- I don’t know,” he finishes, tone bordering on hysterical, back tensing up despite the fact that Chris is now running a hand up and down it. “I wish- I wish I could _know_. But I _don’t._ ”

A lump swells back up in Chris’s throat as he shushes his husband, climbing up to kneel beside his chest so he can gently turn him over to lie on his back instead. He’s probably smearing oil all over the comforter, but Chris doesn’t care. That’s not important right now. What’s important is the fact that Andy is crying again and Chris needs to do everything he can to make it better. He slots a hand into Andy’s hair, letting the other man shove his face into his lap and use his hand to grip Chris’s free one in a desperately tight embrace, matching weddings rings digging in to their skin. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes out, blinking back a few tears of his own drawn out by the sight of his husband practically falling apart underneath him. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”

Andy lets out a shaky breath and burrows his head further into Chris’s thigh. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice muffled. “I don’t know why this has got me like this. You’ve had a rough day, I’m sorry I-“ He shudders and goes limp. “I’m sorry, Chris.”

“Andy, stop,” Chris interrupts, unable to take the guilty apologies any longer. “I had a shitty day because a few people bitched at me. I’m fine. Even if I wasn’t, you’re allowed to feel things, baby, we both are.” His voice hushes during his next words, the helplessness of how he feels finally spilling over. “Andy, just let me fucking help you. I know you can’t tell me about the case, but you’re hurting. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Let me in. _Please_.”

He squeezes Andy’s hand tight and for a horrible moment, there’s nothing but the sound of Andy’s ragged breathing filling the room as he fights to pull himself back together, tears soaking through the fabric of Chris’s sweats.

And then, a pitiful noise being ripped from his throat as he pushes himself up only to throw his arms around Chris and practically drag him down into a desperate hug. “I just don’t want to mess up,” he chokes out. “And I’m so tired of worrying about it, but I have to. I worry all the time. What kind of lawyer- what kind of _person_ would I be if I didn’t? But sometimes I just don’t know. I don’t _know,_ Chris.” He finishes off the outburst with a whisper, so quiet Chris wouldn’t be able to hear it if it weren’t spoken into his skin.

Chris swallows hard and fights to keep his voice strong despite the aching pain Andy’s words invoke in him. He hugs Andy tightly back, forgotten towel pressing between them. “You’re a good fucking lawyer,” he promises, speaking his answers directly into Andy’s hair. “You’re a good person. God, Andy, sometimes I can’t believe I landed someone like you when I think about how lonely I used to be. But I did, and sweetheart, it’s okay to be tired of worrying. It doesn’t make you a bad person at all, it just makes you human. It’s okay to worry and be tired of it, Andy, I promise. You’re good at your job. You always do the best you can do, and everyone who knows you knows that. You are _good._ You’re doing good because that’s what you are. Not a perfect lawyer, but a _good man._ ”

When Chris finishes his fierce speech Andy is still, no part of him moving but his fingers as he clutches at Chris’s back, breathing shallow against his neck. Chris waits patiently for him to calm down a little, pressing kisses into his hairline with whispers of “it’s okay” going along with them, praying to god that he said the right thing. Eventually he feels Andy’s wet eyelashes move against his skin as the other man opens his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath, nodding into Chris’s neck and clutching at his tattoo. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I needed to hear that. I’ve just- been worrying about it all day, got in my own head.” He lifts his head from Chris’s neck and looks at him with red-rimmed eyes and a watery smile. “Thank you,” he repeats quietly, and Chris is so overwhelmed with a wave of love for him that he can’t help but lean forward and kiss him.

“Don’t gotta thank me, Andy,” he responds once he’s broken the kiss. “M’ your husband, remember?” He lifts his left hand and wiggles his fingers at Andy to show off the ring still shining on them. “Kinda signed up for this, yknow,” he teases lightly. He knows that Andy still isn’t okay, probably won’t be back to his usual self for the rest of the night, but he can still try to make him smile a little no matter how small it is. 

Andy cracks out the faintest grin and removes a hand from Chris’s back to tangle with Chris’s still outstretched ring hand, squeezing their palms together. His eyes are still swollen from the crying, but the edges crinkle when he smiles and Chris thinks he looks beautiful, unable to resist going back in for another kiss. Andy hums into it, letting Chris take the lead on it for a few moments before he pulls away and looks at him with a tired smile. “You never finished my massage,” he murmurs.

Chris raises an eyebrow at him and squints, but decides to let him have this if it means he’s feeling better. “I guess we got sidetracked,” he says, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “I guess I could be persuaded to get my hands back on you. It’s not _too_ much of a bother.”

Andy huffs at him, and moves to settle back down on his stomach. Chris shoots him a grin and climbs back down to the end of the bed, picking the massage oil back up and spreading it back over his hands while he climbs between Andy’s legs to start working back over his thighs and lower back, the last two areas he has to work with before the massage is finished.

Chris is going to be honest- he tries his best to stay focused while he works and not get distracted by how thick Andy’s thighs are or how his back still has soft little dimples at the bottom of his spine despite how muscular he is- but that’s harder than it sounds. And honestly, it isn’t even the biggest distraction. _Someone_ forgot to grab the towel when he flipped back over, so Andy’s ass is on display below him, perched right in between where Chris’s hands are working to wring out the tension from Andy’s body. That’s not the only think Chris is wringing out of him, though. With every pass of his hands over a tender area, Andy is letting out little noises that have Chris’s dick stirring in his sweatpants.

It’s when he lets out a particularly low, drawn out sound that Chris finally can’t take it anymore. Hands still covered in oil, he uses both his palms to draw a firm line down the expanse of Andy’s back, shoulder blade to tailbone until his thumbs are resting on the cleft of it and he drags his hands down even further to knead at the cheeks with his fingers splayed wide. Chris’s not a small guy (just a bit bigger than Andy) and while his fingers are a bit calloused from working with a gun, they’re large enough to span nicely over Andy’s asscheeks, two perfect handfuls that make his dick ache to look at. He admires it for a second, gives the flesh a little massage of its own before he looks back up to see Andy looking over his shoulder at him with a slack jawed expression, eyes half lidded.

It’s no secret Andy likes Chris loving on his ass- hell, Chris loves Andy doing it to him just as much, even if it’s a less common occurrence- and right now Chris is ready to worship the hell out of it if Andy lets him. Andy has to be in the mood for this too, and despite the vulnerable spread of him on the bed and the way his pupils are blown by the mere presence of Chris’s hands on his ass, Chris still gives him an asking look anyways.

Andy’s shy half smile is more than enough permission, but his nod gives Chris the confirmation he needs to continue down his previous path, using both thumbs to pull Andy’s cheek apart until his rim is on display between them.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Chris breathes out, embarrassingly unable to keep it in. It’s been a while since he’s been this up close and personal with Andy’s ass with how busy they’ve been with work lately, forgive him if he needs a moment. He keeps his hold on Andy with the rest of his fingers, taking one of his oil-slick thumbs and moving it to slide reverently over Andy’s hole. Andy sighs breathlessly above him at, but his legs spread and his hips cant back too, pushing back to chase the press of Chris’s fingers.

“Gonna massage that too, daddy?” he asks huskily, and Chris groans at the thought, eyes fixed on the shine of the oil spread over Andy’s rim and his balls resting heavy against the comforter.

“Could be persuaded,” he says hoarsely. He rubs his thumb once more over Andy’s rim, pressing in firmer just to listen to the way it makes him groan and grind his hips against the mattress. “But,” he adds on. “I think this kind of massage might be better done with something other than my fingers.”

With that, he leans down and licks a stripe over Andy from his balls to his tailbone, applying more pressure the slightest amount when he moves the flat of his tongue over his hole. It’s Andy’s turn this time to let out an involuntary “ _fuck_ ”, repeated a second time at the first touch of Chris’s tongue directly on his hole. This is one of his favorite things for Chris to do with him- always gets him extra sweet with how intimate it is, something Chris is definitely going to take advantage of tonight. 

Chris teases at it at first- that’s what he does best after all- going in with little kitten licks to his rim while his hands continue gripping at Andy’s cheeks, massaging the flesh as he works up to small circles that massage at the softening tightness of Andy’s hole going pliant like the rest of him had earlier. Chris loses himself a bit to it, the salty sweat of a long day’s work surrounding him as he tastes and explores, his own dick pressing heavy against the mattress when he lowers himself to get a better angle at his work.

Andy lets out another guttural groan above him when Chris finally presses his tongue inside, just the tip. Chris lets out a responding moan when he feels Andy’s thick thighs flex beside his shoulders, those muscles tensing while the muscles of his ass are giving way for Chris to push his tongue further inside and start to fuck it in and out of him. He keeps at this for a while, whimpering as Andy begins rolling his hips while Chris works behind him.

“God, daddy,” Andy breathes, voice strained as he grinds his dick against the mattress and presses his ass back against Chris’s mouth. Chris pauses to take a break from the tongue-fucking, opting to suck over Andy’s rim and suck over his balls instead. “Feels so good- missed this. Missed you taking care of me.” He pauses to moan, and then goes on, voice dreamlike. “I thought about it all day.”

Chris pulls his mouth away completely for a breather, stretching his thumbs back over Andy’s cheeks so he can admire the sight of his hole after Chris’s work, rim puffy and red, shining with spit from his mouth. “That’s what I’m here for,” he rasps. “Not exactly a hardship for me, either.”

Andy hums and arches his back enticingly, turning to throw Chris an imploring look, wide eyed and wanting. “Am I allowed to come like this or are you gonna fuck me?” 

Chris blows a stream of cool air over Andy’s hole just to be a tease, smiling happily at the way it clenches down. He uses a fingertip to press at it, dipping the tip just barely inside and listening to the way it makes Andy’s breath hitch. “I guess I can fuck you if that’s what you want.”

Andy sighs and drops his head back onto the mattress with a hum. “That’s what I want, daddy.”

Chris narrows his eyes at him playfully. “So good for me, aren’t you,” he mutters, patting Andy’s ass fondly. “Just let me get the lube. Put the towel under you. You can come whenever you want tonight, sweetheart, you’ve been amazing all day. So strong.”

The both make quick work of their tasks, Chris snagging the lube from the bedside table where they had left it after last night and resuming his position between Andy’s legs, now set on top of the towel, with it in hand. He squirts some of it on his fingers and rubs them together to warm it up like he had done with the massage oil before sliding a slicked-up finger slowly into Andy’s entrance. He’s so loose from Chris’s tongue that he barely has to wiggle it around before he’s able to slide a second finger in alongside it, twisting and turning until Andy lets out a sudden noise that lets him know he’s just brushed against his prostate. Chris grins at the accomplishment, adding more lube so he can fit in a third finger and stroke over the spot with steady fingers, dick leaking in his sweats at the sight of Andy’s thick thighs trembling while he pushes his hips back to rock against Chris’s fingers. He’s letting out bitten off moans while he does it, breathing heavily until he finally lifts his head from his arms and looks back again at Chris.

“I’m ready,” he says. “You gonna fuck me now or what, daddy?”

Yeah, he’s _definitely_ feeling better if he can be this pouty. 

Chris moans himself, not having to think twice before he’s shoving his sweats down his thighs and letting his dick slap against his stomach, red and leaking at the tip. They don’t use condoms at this point- not like they’ve had sex with anyone outside each other in almost half a decade- so all he has to do is lube himself up before he’s pressing the blunt head of his cock against Andy’s stretched hole and they’re both groaning as he pushes inside.

“God,” Chris gasps, hips fighting not to immediately slam forward. “You’re so fucking tight, Christ.”

“Yeah?” Andy says breathlessly, back arching lazily up off the bed while Chris slowly bottoms out in him. “S’it good, daddy?”

Chris leans forward and blankets himself over Andy’s broad back so he can whisper into his ear, “ _Perfect, sweet thing_ ” before he starts to fuck him like his life depends on it.

Andy lets a noise out like the wind has been knocked out of him, bracing himself on a thick forearm so he can reach his other hand down and wrap it around his dick to jerk himself off languidly while Chris fucks into him from behind.

In truth, Chris thinks he could fuck Andy every hour of the rest of his life and never get tired of it- the younger man is tight and hot inside, ass is something that Chris could stare at for days, and he’s _incredibly_ responsive. One thrust against his prostate and he’s groaning and gone practically limp under Chris, hand working furiously over his cock while his head presses down into the mattress. He’s sweating from the exertion, sweat shining on the back of his neck like the oil had on him earlier. Chris wants to lick it off.

He’s beautiful, muscles rippling under Chris with every move he makes, but somehow, he’s still so vulnerable like this. Trusting, with his back turned to Chris while he lets him take care of him, lets him see him like this, whining and panting and moaning out for his daddy. It’s overwhelming- the sensations of Chris rocking into him while he clenches down on him, moans his name into their comforter, the emotions of having him like this after he was so torn up and hurting earlier.

Having Andy trust him to be in control is always something special, but tonight the experience is almost electric. Chris feels like a live wire, he loves this man so much. 

The words swell up in his throat, but he doesn’t have time to say them, only groans out “oh, _fuck_ ”, his hips stuttering in their pace as he feels himself approaching his orgasm. Andy seems to be in the same boat under him, a deep groan breaking free as the sounds of his hand working over his cock and Chris’s hips hitting his ass combine to fill the room.

It’s when Andy comes that Chris is sent over the edge too, his only warning being Andy’s guttural groan of “ _Chris_ ” before his hole is clenching down iron tight over Chris’s cock as his husband spills into his own hand with a long, drawn out moan. Chris whimpers at the sudden heightened sensation, hips jerking forward frantically until he’s coming himself, riding out the waves of it in Andy’s ass.

Once he’s finished out the aftershocks of it, Chris feels hot all over, breathless and panting. He tries to settle himself down, does his best at it, but when he slides out of Andy’s ass and sees the mess he’s made of his hole he can’t help but let out another moan at the sight.

“Fuck, Andy,” he breathes, bringing a finger down and touching the tip of it against the red, puffy entrance of him and pressing it into him just to feel how his come has painted his insides. He’ll probably grab the plug later just to keep it all in, but for now he indulges in some hands on enjoyment. “ _Fuck._ ”

Andy lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of Chris’s fingers prodding at him, shifting his hips away so he can turn over and flop down on his back. He grimaces when he lands on his own wet towel (hey, at least they don’t have to wash the comforter), scrunching his nose up as he examines his come-covered hand. “That would be what we just did,” he says dazedly, huffing when Chris takes his new position as an opportunity to flop on top of him, effectively pinning him down. Chris knows he likes the security after the vulnerability, even if he just raises his eyebrows in response. “Comfortable?”

Chris hums and gives Andy a wicked look before he’s grabbing his hand and sticking the fingers in his mouth to lick off the come, eyes dancing at the groan it elicits. Once he’s got it clean, he pulls off his fingers with a pop and throws him a satisfied smile. “I’m very comfortable.”

“So am I.” He pauses, licking his own lips so enticingly that Chris can’t help but kiss him and transfer some of his own taste into his mouth, lips coming back red and swollen when they part. Chris is so enthralled with them that he almost misses it when Andy speaks next. “Thank you for that, Chris. I really needed that.”

Chris kisses his favorite freckle above Andy’s beard and tugs at his hair affectionately. “I’m always gonna be here to give it to you, sweetheart. For better or for worse, and all. I love you.”

Andy tucks his head into Chris’s neck. “I love you back, daddy.”

Chris falls silent for a moment, just to let them breathe and have the afterglow, but eventually he feels like he has to speak up. “I’m just sorry I didn’t pick up on it earlier. I left you hanging, and for that...I’m sorry, Andy.” He kisses his hair. 

Andy shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “This is on me, too. I didn’t come to you and try to talk, I let it bottle up inside. This isn’t your fault, you aren’t a mind reader.”

“That’s true,” Chris admits, settling down more comfortably although he knows they’ll have to clean up pretty soon. “It’s a two person job. We both just had off days today.”

Andy sighs, and this time Chris is glad to know it isn’t over him. “Yeah.”

“We’ll just have to handle it how we handle most things, in the future,” Chris murmurs. 

Andy smiles up at Chris, sleepy and sated, hand coming up to skritch at his beard. “Yeah? How’s that?”

Chris leans in, quiet words spoken against his lips like a kiss of their own. “ _Together_.”

That’s when they’re at their best, after all (thankfully, they’ll be like that for a while if the wedding rings are anything to go by). 

**Author's Note:**

> does anyone still care about them? i do. comments and kudos mooching as always.


End file.
